Let me just say that minorities in North America ain’t got sh1t on me when it comes to dealing with the woes of rac1sm and discrimination.

Being a white g1rl in Africa isn’t easy.

I’m charged different prices, I’m stared at, people don’t want to sit next to me on busses, I’m yelled at in the street, called names, children cry when they see me, people pick on me…

There’s something to be said for how far we’ve come in the West when talking about discrimination. We used to be just as bad, if not worse, but goddam, we’ve come a long way.

Never have I been so aware of the fact that I’m white. And not just that, but a White g1rl. The closest I’ve come is when I moved from (the all-white) Nova Scotia to go to school at the University of Waterloo in Ontario, where I was suddenly struck with the fact that I didn’t know anything about different cu1tures.

Small town, little White g1rl-Alice didn’t know what to think. Nothing bad, I assure you, but she got a wake up call to how little her world actually was.

But back to living in Africa. If there’s anything I hope to achieve by being here (outside of professional things), it’s spreading the word about how white folk don’t like to be called “toubab” or “bosslady” or any of the other names I’m called here. I’m helping pave the road for other white people (the tourists, most likely, that I spend my days cursing) to be treated like equals.

I tell the Canadian “Underground Railroad” story as much as possible. The Gambia was a place where a lot of slaves came from, so understandably, some are still bitter.

But what can I do about being discriminated against? I have no idea. I do call the locals on it, when it’s obvious. I ask people in the market (who don’t know me, and think that I’m a tourist), if what they’re giving me is a “toubab price,” and they usually grimace and the lower the price. I speak their languages to the best of my ability, and occasionally learn a new word or phrase. I’m as friendly as I possibly can be, small ch@t with most people who start conversations with me.

But seriously, you whiners back home, you’ve got it easy.